


Carbon Fiber Thighs

by Marshmellowtoast



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Masturbation, robo vag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 19:05:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8172583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marshmellowtoast/pseuds/Marshmellowtoast
Summary: Solo-Genji masturbation after a little in introspection.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This shit is is un-beta'd. I need more Robo-Pussy. I'm going to go die of embarrassment. Let me know if i missed any tags.

Genji often found himself wondering why the good doctor had put so much effort and detail into his body. At first after the incident, he hadn't been interested in anything that his body was capable of. Despite her hard work and effort, he had barely put the effort into eating or sleeping, running his new body ragged, often pushing himself to the point of collapsing. He would wake after these times in the Medbay, hooked up to various drips and wires, always with the doctor close at hand. She would never scold him for his actions, too distressed by the frustration and anger caused by the actions she had taken to save his life. If they spoke at all it was usually a gentle reminder that while his body was still healing he would have to eat and sleep normally, with reassurances that as he healed the need to eat at least would be diminished. He hadn't bothered to pay too much attention to how it all worked. He would run himself into the ground once again, and they would end up in the same position just like they had before. 

It had taken time before he had started to truly feel anything properly again. A sensation of touch was present, as were his emotions, but all of it seemed clouded and just beyond his reach. Even the anger and sorrow that drove his every waking action was a dull flicker of what he knew it could be. Angela had explained that it was due to a mental block of sorts, that his mental rejection of his body was creating a physical reaction. Taking the time to understand and process his form outside of combat would allow for a clearer connection between the machines and his flesh. 

 

He mad little effort to follow her advice, content with the mild advantage that the dulled sensations allowed him in combat. Over yet more time even without willful effort on his own part, some things would spark genuie emotion in him, parting the cloud momentarily. A joke from Mccree would bring joy, too severe of an injury pain, and the loss of a teammate would inspire a deep sorrow. 

While he could never remember the cause of it, he could remember the first time he had felt arousal after years of nothing. It had been dull like everything else at first, and whenever it arouse he would thrown himself hard into training, ignoring the sensation until it disappeared entirely. 

It wasn't until after he had begun training with Zenyatta that he finally began to understand and explore his form. Meditation had help greatly to bring his emotions into harmony, so that they no longer felt dulled or distant and with that came the rise of how they once were. It was overwhelming at first, as if he had to sort through years worth of emotions, like tension that had built and built. Zenyatta had been there to help with almost all of them, helping to tame his anger and build the foundation of forgiveness that he would need to one day interact with his brother. 

During a time of introspection, he hit upon a memory from before his life had come tumbling down. His last lover, someone who he had slept with on a handful of occasions, they had both intended to keep things light, but as it continued they both began to get attached. The last meeting they had was just days before the incident, dinner and a movie with sweet stolen kisses and the promise to call for another such date in the days to follow. He had never been able to call, and now wondered what they had thought of him. If they thought he had been scared by the idea of a commitment and run, if they had even felt pain at the sudden separation, and if they had how he hoped it had dulled over time. Following his teachings, he tried not to dwell on the pain that the memory caused, reflecting on the passion and joy they shared instead. With those thoughts, came a burst of arousal, stronger than it had been the few shameful times he had felt it during his time with Overwatch. It was pleasant warmth in his belly that pooled hot and settled, clearly unwilling to fade without help. 

His first instinct was the same, to ignore the sensation and burn it off through training. It wasn’t too far off from their normal routine that Zenyatta would suspect anything was amiss, though he would probably be startled by the intensity Genji with which he fought. Such a knee jerk reaction however, would go against all he had been trying to learn, to accept himself for who and what he was. He was in a safe space, in his own room and free from any judgement but his own, with a drawn out breath, he moved to his bed roll, taking a seat in the middle. 

Unsure of where you begin,he starts of with small things, leaning against the wall with his legs tucked in front, and removing his faceplate. Not wearing it feels strange, as the only time he usually removes it is for meals, but the thought of the metal steaming and fogging as he attempts this is too bothersome to deal with. It takes time before he is willing to make any sort of move, and once he does it is tentative and slow. A slide of hands down his chest to brush across his thighs, fingers coming to rest on the panel that he knows covers whatever genitals he might have. In the years he has been like this he had never taken the opportunity to look, too ashamed what he had become. There is a nervous flutter in his chest as he takes it off now and tries to calm the feeling. Shaking fingers brush delicately along thick puffy lips, skirting the button of his clit and making him shiver. Years spent without any sort of touch other than to clean have left him overly sensitive to and a few simple strokes are enough to have him leaking something onto the mat. 

Neon green in colour and slicking the fibers of his thighs as it trails down them, clinging to his fingers when he touches it, but still allows them to move smoothly against each other. It’s comforting to know that his body can produce something on it’s own so that if this becomes a regular occurrence, he won’t have to suffer the embarrassment of trying to find lube in the temple or small town near by. Though with the amount leaking out of him now there will be no avoiding cleaning his bedding. The thought makes him flush, and add fuel to the fire in his belly, helping it spread through his limbs in a way he never dreamed of being possible. Why it so arousing? To think that when he would have to risk one of the monks catching cleaning up such a mess. None of them would judge him, as there was nothing wrong with the act, he had overheard conversation between some of the young villagers who were coming of age who had sought counsel from the monks. It was a natural thing to experience, and as long as whomever was involved was safe and consenting, they had nothing to worry over. 

It still plagued him, though it was far too late to stop, his fingers finally strayed further down, letting one slip into his leaking hole. It felt strange, the metal cover on the top of his finger contrasting with the subtle grooves and bumps on the pad, not extreme but definitely noticeable. The material inside was soft and pliant under his finger, he stifled a moan at the sensation, every inch of it feeling like it was coated in delicate nerves. All too quickly he adds a second, pushing them both in deep before spreading them to feel the stretch. His body is still producing more lube, and he can hear the noises it makes as he fingers himself, only driving him to push in harder and faster. With a poorly stifled whimper, he presses in a third hand has to stop. He’s sure that he could fit more inside, but three already leaves him feeling tight and full and he takes a moment to just bask in the pleasure that it brings. His other hand wanders back up to his clit, and he begins to rub it gently, enjoying the way it makes him instantly tightly around his fingers. 

Slick with his own fluids, his thoughts begin to wander to cleaning again, and how embarrassed he feel to be caught. The monks would not shame him, but he can’t help but think of one in particular that that sent a hot flash of arousal through his body. He would be just as accepting as the others but Genji couldn’t help but shiver, excited by the idea of his teacher finding him. Cleaning the mat would be bad enough, but as more and more noise slipped past his lips, the risk of someone walk in increased. Someone to help touch him, cold slender hands with delicate fingers, a chrome and gold faceplate close, watching as his green slicked fingers pressed inside, quickly spreading him open. 

With a stuttering cry, Genji came, clenching tightly around his fingers, squirting onto his hand and the already soaked bedding.


End file.
